


We Can Live While We're Alive (or we can die)

by kisses_goodnight



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Killjoys AU, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Polyamory, medium burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27376150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisses_goodnight/pseuds/kisses_goodnight
Summary: BL/ind and TELLEXX are looking for Dallon, Dallon and Ryan are both looking to escape Battery City, and Cold Fever has room in her car for two escapees. While on the run, might as well hold hands (to be safe, of course).
Relationships: Breezy Weekes/Dallon Weekes, Ryan Seaman/Breezy Weekes/Dallon Weekes, Ryan Seaman/Dallon Weekes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Battery City

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for bandom and killjoys, so going to see what happens. Killjoys/iDKHOW because TELLEXX and BL/ind are basically buddies right?

The price blinks at him, Ryan running his thumb over the crumpled carbons in his pocket. The outskirts of Battery City is, as usual, filthy and loud, shouts and no doubt fights happening at various distances. He tries another vending machine, pressing the PLUS option; the price blinks at him. Same price. He’ll try again tomorrow, perhaps in a different section of the city. 

Making his way through alleyways and puddled streets, he checked the surroundings for any BL/ind patrol cars. A quiet night today. Moving the wooden board covering the entrance to the building, he slipped in, moving it back. The stairs creaked and groaned as he walked up, taking care to step where it was closest to the wall. The dusty stair lights sputter and flicker, running on some miracle remaining amounts of electricity. His apartment is one of the rooms that was still relatively intact, as in there wasn’t a giant hole in the floor or an entire wall gone. Ryan closed the door behind him, exhaling. No lights needed, the neon signs and lights from the Lobby that slip through the boards hammered on the windows illuminate the tiny room enough. 

“Welcome back, Ryan.” He smiled, turning towards the mattress and pile of blankets. 

“Hey, Dal.” The blankets shifted, revealing a head of bright red hair, falling partially over the left side of his face. “How are you feeling?” 

“Tired, but fine.” Ryan sifted through the cabinets and took out a can, opening it up and sniffing at the contents. It seemed like a wet, mushed, slightly expired mix of vegetables. He poked at the mush, hoping the orange specks were carrots. They better be carrots. 

“Your battery?”

“I’ll be fine.” He squinted, Dallon giving a small smile back. “I’ll be fine, really. I can go for another week as long as I don’t do anything too active.” The carbons in his pocket felt heavier, Ryan swallowing a spoonful of mush. He should’ve gotten a PLUS container for Dallon. “Besides, it’s not like I am going to be moving anywhere for the time being. Save it to when we’re closer to the escape date.” Dallon followed Ryan’s gaze out the window, the bits of light between the wooden boards exposing the chipping paint on his face. “... She is okay, right?” 

“Yeah, I’m meeting with her Friday night.” He took another bite, trying to not gag on the sour aftertaste. Something was definitely expired, or the contents are just that gross by design. “My last run, I think we have enough carbons to get what we need.” Dallon picked at his chipping paint, a chunk falling onto the blanket covers. He quickly brushed it onto the floor. Ryan tried to squeeze the excess juice off the side and took a bite; slightly better. 

“There’s been more patrol cars as of late.” Dallon quietly muttered, hugging his knees. “They’re getting closer.” As if on cue, they hear another patrol car drive by below; they hold their breaths, only exhaling once it passed by. “... Do you think they are going to find me?” 

“This building is condemned and looks like shit from the outside. There’s no reason for them to look here.” Dallon’s expression was still tense, picking at the paint again. “Dal,” he looked up, Ryan giving his most warm smile, “we’re going to make it out of here.” False hope is still hope. The corners of his lips twitched up slightly. 

“Together?”

“Absolutely.” Ryan finished the last of the can’s contents and tossed it away. Dallon leaned against the windowsill, staring out into the city. 

He went through his messages to check for new delivery orders while Dallon continued to watch out the window. He wrote down the dates and locations, putting a star next to those that are offering more carbons; they were usually paired with an X, indicating it is a riskier run. 

“Please tell me you are not taking that job.” Ryan jumped as Dallon leaned over his shoulder, pointing at one of the entries. The dropoff location was right by a checkpoint, most likely smuggling items into Inner City. Ryan never asked about what he delivered, fine with remaining as the middleman. His biggest concerns were getting paid, not getting caught, and continuing to hide Dallon. 

“I’ve ran worse before. I can do it.” 

“I can-”

“No.” Ryan put his pencil down. “There’s no need to.” Dallon frowned, his hand subconsciously pushing the longer strands of his hair away from his face. They both know red is the most expensive and enticing out of all the pornodroid colors. “You aren’t even built for that. Besides, they’re still looking for you.” 

“It would be a beneficial boost, and I don’t need long.” Ryan shook his head. 

“Dal, it’s too risky. Trust me, I’ll be okay.” He rested his hand on Dallon’s arm. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. I can outrun the dracs. And if it does look like things are spiraling, I’ll bail.”

“... Promise?” There are no promises to be made in this city. But if it makes Dallon feel better, he nods. 

“Promise.” He finishes sorting the rest of the orders, making a list of things he needs to bring along. As the moon rose higher in the sky and the neon lights flickered out more, Ryan took his leather jacket and shoes off, lying down on the ratty mattress. Dallon lied down similarly. 

He’d usually sleep on the floor or slumped over the table so Dallon could have the bed, but in the middle of the night, Dallon would make them switch positions. So, they’ve decided on just sharing the bed. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, but Ryan didn’t mind much. 

Dallon hugged his waist and rested his head underneath his. Ryan cradled his head, slowly running his fingers through Dallon’s hair. It’s a synthetic wig, remaining soft and silky indefinitely. There are a few tangles he brushes out, listening to the sirens of BL/ind cars and ray guns blasting. 

The outskirts of Battery City. What a lovely place. He’s not going to get any sleep at this rate. 

Reaching over and fishing underneath the pillow, he pulled a walkman. Ryan thumbed at the earbuds, pressing them into his ears. Rewinding the cassette tape, he hit play, almost feeling the stress physically melt away. Dallon shifted, cracking one eye open. 

“Are you listening to music?” Ryan nodded, offering one of the earbuds. Dallon put it in and went back to sleep with a quick thank you. They listened in the dark, Ryan running his fingers over the earbud wire. Such a little device could get them arrested and taken away. He wouldn’t give it up for anything. 

_ He just finished the delivery orders for the night, walking away from the last location. Tonight was a bit hectic, but not unmanageable. At least he got paid for each run. Picking up the duffel bag in his apartment, he left for one more visit.  _

_ Making his way towards the very edge of the city, he avoided all the main roads, hiding anytime he heard the sound of an engine; better safe than sorry. The moments where he had to emerge from the side roads, he double-checked for any incoming dracs, booking across roads with only the moon and dim lights to guide him.  _

_ The main subway entrance was long destroyed, entrance filled with rubble. To the side was a maintenance door. The key is a rusty thing that he’s afraid would snap in the lock, but today was merciful and the door only opened with a groan. He locked it behind him, just in case. Turning on his flashlight, he began to walk down the subway tunnel.  _

_ There’s no sound besides his footsteps. Long-dead light bulbs hung along the walls. There are other doors he’s never opened before scattered in the tunnel, Ryan guessing they just lead to other boarded up subway entrances. There’s a station that was never finished, construction palettes and broken rails left behind as if everybody got up and left one day. The tunnel extends further beyond, his cheap flashlight unable to light the end.  _

_ She sat on the station platform, legs dangling over the edge. A candle lamp sat next to her, the only illumination besides his flashlight. Ryan swallowed, turning his light off.  _

_ “... Cold Fever?” He called out.  _

_ “Hey.” He walked out of the tunnel, Fever smiling and waving at him. He lifted himself onto the platform and set the bag down beside her, taking his customary three steps back. The pastel yellow ray gun on her hip made him take an extra small step, even though he knows she wouldn’t draw it on him. “You don’t gotta be all uppity around me, you know that.” _

_ “Habit.”  _

_ “Good habit, keep it.” She unzipped the bag, rifling through the contents. Even though he knows she’s not looking for anything in particular, the fear that he delivered the wrong things is always present. She made a noise of satisfaction, switching the items from his bag to hers. “How much?” Ryan says a price. Even though her head is down, still transferring the items, he can feel the frown. “You’re too precious, you know that?” She shook her head and held out said carbons. He knows she likely folded some extra in, but knows better than to argue with her. He takes the carbons with a thank you.  _

_ Fever patted the spot next to her, Ryan sitting down. The station floor is cold.  _

_ “So, what’s new? Ready to bounce this time?” Fever asked, grinning. The blonde streaks in her hair stand out more in the soft glow of the candle lamp. Ryan sighed, running his hand through his hair; it was getting a little long and curling at the ends. He should get it cut soon. _

_ “Still thinking about it.” Fever’s smile fell for a second, replaced with a more sad-smile. Was it pity? Sympathy? “Don’t get me wrong, I want to, but…” What if they run into dracs on the way out? What if they run into a patrol car out there? What if the engine breaks? What would it be like, abandoning his life now?  _

_ “No, I get it. It’s a huge risk.” Fever rested her hand on his shoulder, his leather jacket protecting him from the chill tunnel air. Ryan glanced at her jacket; there are various streaks of colors, spray paint flecks all over. There’s a few pins and patches, though he couldn’t make them out clearly in the low light. His own jacket was just black; any bright colors or designs would attract too much attention.  _

_ “One day, just… just not today.” The tip of the flame sways back and forth. His own convictions about escaping sway similarly.  _

_ “Well, I got you something!” Fever rummaged through her jacket, Ryan raising a brow. “Found this baby when I hunkered down by Zone 5. By some magic, the earbuds work!” At the sound of earbuds, Ryan perked up. Fever handed him a rectangular device, inside containing a cassette tape. “A walkman! So now, you can listen to music without playing it loud!” Ryan popped open the case.  _

_ “The Mad Gear and Missile Kid?”  _

_ “Only the best jams the desert has.” Fever said. Unwinding the earbuds and winding the tape, Ryan hit play. Instantly, music roared through his ears and veins, louder than BL/ind patrol car’s sirens, twice as jolting. Fever giggled, pushing Ryan’s jaw back up. His hands itched to bounce to the melody, ghost drumsticks resting in his hands. “Nobody’s here but us, jam out.”  _

_ Ryan immediately raised his hands and drummed on an invisible set. His foot bounced against the ledge, wishing there was an actual pedal. As the tape faded out, he exhaled, resisting the urge to immediately rewind and listen again and again and again until it broke. He realized Fever was still watching him, blushing and lowering his hands. _

_ “It’s been a really, really long time while since I heard music.” There was BL/ind approved music, but he got sick of it pretty quickly.  _

_ “I can tell.” He reached into his pockets, trying to locate the one with carbons. “Don’t you dare.” _

_ “But-” Fever glared at him, the dim glow making her eyes seem ten times more piercing. Ryan slowly lowered his hand back down.  _

_ “... Thank you, really.” She smiled again.  _

_ “Of course.” They delved into their usual conversation, Fever telling stories about the desert while Ryan listened onto every word. Stories of high speed chases down Route Guano, a concert that lit up the sky for miles, claps with draculoids, and Dr. Death Defying’s newest radio segment. She tried to tune into his station with her hand radio, but the signal was too poor to understand more than a word.  _

_ The flame sways and Ryan glances at the tunnel stretching on for who knows how far. What was better, hiding from BL/ind at every waking hour or always looking for them in the distance?  _

_ When the wax pooled low, Fever hopped down onto the rails.  _

_ “Always lovely talking with you.” Ryan swung his legs back and forth, bouncing off the back of the platform.  _

_ “Same here.”  _

_ “Whenever you’re ready to bounce, just drop me a note.” She said. She blew the candle lamp out, submerging them both in darkness. Ryan sat still, watching the shadows shift and move. “Next week, here?” _

_ “Yep.” He turned his flashlight on and jumped down onto the rails as well. “... Breezy?” She turned around. “Don’t get… dusted?” She smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. “Don’t get dusted out there.” _

_ “Same to you. Stay shiny, Ryan.” She walked into the tunnel, disappearing into the darkness. Her footsteps steadily got more distant, replaced with a muffled rumble of an engine and wheels. A few more seconds and the engine hum is gone. Ryan took the walkman out again, putting the earbuds in and rewinding the tape. He walked in the opposite direction, letting the music replace the silence of the subway tunnel.  _


	2. Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another step forward to escaping Battery City.

Ryan knocked on the door three times with a pause on the last knock. Glancing left and right, the street remained empty, settling his nerves just a tiny bit. The door cracked open. Setting the package down and taking three steps back, he maintained a friendly smile; deliveries usually went better if he gave off a friendly disposition. Not too much, just enough to not appear threatening. He’s pretty sure his hair is half of the reason why he looks unassuming. 

The recipient took the package, inspected the contents, nodded in satisfaction, handed over the second half of payment, nodded in acknowledgment, and shut the door. Ryan counted the carbons and pocketed it, hurrying towards the next pickup. 

Double-check the address. Review pickup protocol for special instructions. Scan the area. Swallow his nerves, again. Ryan sighed, rolling his shoulders and ignoring the cracking sounds. Just a little more for tonight. 

Slipping into the dingy bar and trying his hardest to ignore the atmosphere of sweat, alcohol, and questionable fluids, he squeezed to the front and waved down the bartender. Code word given, package received, carbons paid in full. Don’t question what’s inside or the purpose. He ordered a beer to be polite, pocketed the can, and exited through the backdoor. 

The time blinked on one of the few half-working TV screens piled beside the road. Fever should be close to the tunnel by now; he isn’t sure if she drinks shitty beer, but maybe sharing it will magically make it taste better. Just a little more for tonight. 

“There you are, was starting to think you weren’t showing up.” Fever said, patting the spot next to her.

“Sorry, the last delivery run went a bit long. Had to hide from dracs for a bit.” Ryan sat down and held out the beer can. “Want some? It’s probably lukewarm.” She slowly pushed his hand back against his chest. 

“You enjoy that, I’ll stick with my water.” Ryan shrugged and cracked it open, taking a swig; he gagged, Fever half-expecting him to spit it all over the rails. She raised a brow. “Warm?”

“Yeah. Warm and gross.” He stared at the can and took another swig, this time only vigorously shaking his head after swallowing with a groan. 

“Why’d you drink it again?” 

“I paid for it, don’t wanna waste it. And you know,” he waved the can around, “lower the nerves.” 

“Can’t argue with that.” Fever held her hand out. “Lemme see how bad it is.” She took a sip, paused, grimaced, swallowed, and nearly threw the can back at him. “I can get better in the desert, and that’s saying something.” Ryan slowly worked his way through the can as she opened up her bag. “Need a favor from you.” She took out a peach-colored spray can. “You said Dallon’s face paint is chipping, right?” 

“A bit, yeah. Enough to be noticeable.” 

“Can’t really slip through the city if they see cracks. Repaint his face and protect it.” She also handed over a can of sealant, half-used. 

“Instructions?”

“Right on the can. Just do light coats.” Ryan moved the cans into his bag, making sure they won’t tumble around too much. “You know, I’d thought his paint job to be better.” 

“I don’t think Dallon’s meant to leave whatever building he was made in, much less outside the city.” Ryan murmured. “Or maybe he’s a prototype, so they skimped on the paint job. Whatever it is, BL/ind isn’t happy he’s outside.” 

“Or whatever company made him and paying BL/ind to find him. Destroya knows carbons make that building go round.” Fever muttered. Ryan sipped his beer again, trying to swallow both the bitter taste of Dallon’s predicament and the drink. “His hair. We need to cover it. I have this,” she held up a beanie, plain gray in color, “but any chance of finding a wig in the Lobby?” 

“I doubt there’s a natural colored one, but I can still check.” He pointed at her blond streaks. “What about hair dye?”

“He’s not made of the same stuff as us, bleach and hair dye are going to destroy his hair. I think we can get away with fabric dye though.” Fever held up a few more clothing pieces for Dallon; a turtleneck sweater, black gloves, plain belt, and scarf. A pair of glasses with fake lenses. “These all will work, but…” 

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Ryan tapped her arm with the beer can, Fever chugging it before handing it back with a hefty exhale. 

“Wanna come with me to the City for a shopping trip?” Ryan groaned as loud as possible as she pretended to gag. 

“Do we have to?” 

“I can’t find a pair of pants or a jacket large enough for him. Besides, if we really want to blend him in, a piece or two of city clothes won’t hurt.” She said, running her hand through her hair with a grumble. They both know it’s going to hurt their wallets. Ryan hoped, by some miracle, a store will be holding a sale. “... Two days, that sound good?” 

“That’s fine.” They finished the last of the beer together. Before parting ways, Fever handed over a hand radio, holding up her own; a circle with a lightning bolt sticker was stuck on both radios. 

“Since we’re getting closer to escape date. ” Three short beeps. “Gimmie three beeps back when you get my call.” Fever disappeared down the subway tunnel as Ryan headed back to the outskirts. As he tugged open the maintenance door, three static-filled beeps came through. He sent three back, receiving another three in confirmation. 

He tossed the can into the nearest garbage can. Going to a vending machine, he checked the price for PLUS; it was… decent. Not great, but decent. He fed the bills into the machine, picking up the dispensed container and frowning at the size. Would this even get Dallon through next week? 

It was already bullshit that Dallon had a different charging port than all the other android models. Ryan put the PLUS into his bag, nestled by the spray cans. He’s sure Fever’s new battery won’t have the same planned obsolescence BL/ind builds into theirs. Or at the very least, easy to replace and fix. 

The few times he had to go through Social Services for simple requests, between the waiting times, floors, armfuls of paperwork, and more waiting times, he opted to just do things himself even if the result is shoddier. 

Taking a detour to the Lobby next, he kept his head down and hurried to the piles of scrapped androids, a heavy weight resting in his chest. Too damaged to continue serving their function, outdated models that will eventually be recycled into satellites, or just out of battery; blank faces and dead eyes staring at nothing. He tried to not think about it too much, scanning the piles for hair. He stopped searching after ten minutes, lowering a dead pornodroid back on the ground with a quiet sorry. 

Walking home, Ryan gazed at the city walls, right above the top ledge. Sooner or later, they’re going to be beyond said walls. He touched the collar of his own jacket and thought about Fever’s own brightly colored one. What colors should he go for? 

Maybe red. Or blue. A bright blue sounded nice. Or a blue like the sky when the pollution or buildings aren’t covering it up. Patterns! It’ll be so fun to have patterns beyond stripes and spots. He smiled. Yeah, blues and patterns, that sounded nice. Floral patterns especially. 

What colors would Dallon want? He wanted to guess red because of the hair and eyes, but maybe Dallon wants to distance himself from said color. Does he like leather jackets and ripped jeans or sweaters and sneakers? Or both? Or something entirely different? 

Ryan shook his head. Too many hopeful thoughts. Save the planning for when they’re actually out. Turning the corner, he froze and ducked behind the building. 

Somebody was standing by the wood panel entrance. He peeked out, holding his breath. 

They wore a mask that resembled a skull, vaguely geometrical in shape. The eyes and nose were all black, the mouth a thin, straight line. Their entire body was bone white. 

There are no groups around that dress like that. Are they an Exterminator? Only top-level Scarecrows have special outfits. Ryan paled, tightening his grip around his bag. His hand shakily reached into his jacket, fingers brushing against his ray gun. The safety is on. He hasn’t turned it off in a long time. 

They turned their head to the side. He immediately ducked back and clamped his hand over his mouth. Silence fell, a helicopter in the distance flying towards the Inner City. He wanted to muffle his own heartbeat. He curled his fingers over the handle of the ray gun. The crunch of footsteps made him take it out, finger hovering over the safety. The footsteps headed away from him. Risking another glance, he leaned out. 

The person, exterminator, walked like a soldier towards the main street. Stiff and rigid, hands clasped behind their back. A ray gun was strapped on their hip. On their back was a black circle with a grid and a T on the inside. Ryan blinked, squinting; not it isn’t BL/ind’s smiley circle. The logo didn’t look like any logo he’s familiar with. He desperately hoped it wasn’t a new division of Scarecrows. 

They got into a patrol car, the draculoid inside starting up the engine and speeding off. Ryan waited for five minutes before getting up and making a sweep around the block for ten minutes. He kept the ray gun in hand. Another five minutes of checking. No more draculoids or exterminators. Slipping into the apartment, he rushed up the stairs and opened the door, surveying the room; nothing out of place, nothing disturbed. Dallon sleepily raised his head from the bed. 

“Ry?” Ryan sighed in relief, closing the door behind him. 

“Hey Dal.” Dallon sat up as Ryan came over, taking the PLUS out. He frowned but didn’t comment, taking his shirt off to expose his back panel. Ryan sat behind him and opened it up, squinting at the various wires inside. The poor lighting didn’t help trying to find which wire was what. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Hm? Yeah, everything’s good. Something up?” He didn’t want to disturb any unnecessary wires. Reaching in with as steady of a hand he could manage, he connected the first wire to the PLUS container. 

“You looked rather worried when you came in.” Dallon looked over his shoulder. “Did something happen?” Ryan kept his head down, pretending he was searching for the second wire. Should he tell Dallon? He’s already under so much stress with hiding, staying alone for hours, and the constant danger of his battery running out. News of a possible exterminator wasn’t ideal. Maybe it was an one-time event. Maybe it wasn’t even an exterminator. No use stressing Dallon out with what might’ve just been a random encounter. He raised his head and smiled.

“Just a bit of a hectic day, don’t worry.” Dallon didn’t look completely convinced but didn’t press further, turning his head back to gaze out the window. Ryan connected the second wire and watched the charge drain into Dallon’s battery. 

“Any news on Fever?” 

“She’s visiting in two days, she just needs to grab a few things and then,” Ryan rested his head on Dallon’s shoulder, grinning, “we’re giving you a makeover!” Dallon laughed, turning his head just enough to smile back at Ryan. 

“You two are making me into a model android? Are we going to have a fashion show?” 

“The whole works. We’ll make you look so good, you can be on those billboard ads in the City.” 

“Could I just stay as a page in a magazine?” 

“Nah, go big or go home.” Ryan stuck his tongue out, giggling as Dallon rolled his eyes. “We do need to repaint your face though.” Dallon picked at another flaking shard, flicking it onto the floor. “How do you want to do this?” 

After some deliberation, the most comfortable position was lying down on the ground, Dallon reassuring Ryan that it wasn’t that big of a deal. “I used to be turned off standing up, lying down is a step up already.” Ryan winced.

“You hate being turned off.” 

“It saves battery and since it is going to be just a whole lot of waiting, I… don’t mind. And I trust that you will turn me back on when we’re done.” 

“Absolutely!” Leaving the door open for ventilation and covering Dallon’s hair with a scrap piece of blanket, he got comfortable on the floor. Ryan read and reread the instructions on the spray can, roughly estimating the distance. Dallon tilted his chin up, opening a small panel underneath. 

“Just flip the switch when you’re ready.” Ryan carefully flipped it, Dallon’s eyes fluttering shut; his body stiffened for a second before relaxing, head lolling slightly to the side. Ryan moved his head back in place. Estimating the distance, he checked the time and sprayed a light coat. 

Between the waiting times, sprays, and more waiting, Ryan organized the apartment, ate dinner, thought about turning Dallon back on, decided against it, considered again, paced back and forth, checked the time, and sat down. Another half hour. He drummed against the table, tapping his fingers to a made-up beat. 

~~~~~

Whenever he needed to go to Inner City, for whatever reason, it was a pain and a half. Between the uncomfortable city clothes, blank expressions, and headphones, he hated it. Ryan sighed, waiting by the designated building. He received the three beeps a few minutes ago. The button-down shirt was itchy and plain. The slacks were stiff. He wanted his ripped jeans so badly. 

“Ryan?” He looked up and smiled, waving as Fever strolled over. She held her duffel bag. “I’m just going to drop this off at home and change, then we can get on our way.” 

“Take your time, it’s still pretty early in the afternoon.” He waited, checking every once in a while to be sure the wall he was leaning against wasn’t making stains on the back of his shirt. Today was on the cloudier side, the sun only occasionally peeking out. He stared at the ground, counting the number of asphalt pebbles in a puddle next to him. 

“Ready to go?” He looked up, widening his eyes. 

“... That is not you.” She looked like an upstanding model of a modern-day citizen of Battery City, dressed like she had a vital business meeting to attend. With the blazer, dress pants, heels, hair bun, hat, and deadpan expression, there was little to no evidence of Cold Fever. Her bag was now a messenger bag, showing a few signs of wear. He suddenly felt very much underdressed. 

“Breezy Weekes, pleasure to meet you.” She said with all the professionalism and fake chipper business tone. Her frown cracked into a smile. Ryan felt a little better with some amount of Cold Fever back. 

“How many times do you sneak into the city?” 

“Enough to warrant this outfit. It’s mostly to stay updated on BL/ind updates or sneak out items you can’t get in the desert.” She gestured toward the city. “Ready?” Ryan sighed, shaking his head and blanking his expression. 

“Unfortunately.” Breezy matched his expression. They headed out and slipped among the other citizens, entering the City among a crowd. Ryan walked behind her, holding her bag; a businesswoman and her assistant. Not the worst disguise he’s put on to sneak into the city. Stopping at a few stores, the price would always make them hesitate, opting to try a different place. Everything looked more or less the same anyway. 

They exchanged little, if none dialogue. At most, a nod or tilt of the head for direction. When Breezy spoke with store associates, Ryan tried to not stare, instead looking at the many jackets ranging all different shades of grey. Her voice was firm and cold, a far cry from the warm casual tone he was used to. They settled on a jacket and pair of pants, Breezy paying. He also tried to not stare at the carbons handed over. A snap of her fingers and he stood behind her, taking the clothing bag. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t swing it back and forth. 

Exiting, they began to taper off the main city roads, bypassing residential areas and briskly walking past office buildings. Taking a few routes through a parking lot, they made their way to the Lobby. After a check to make sure they weren’t being followed, they stopped behind a motel. 

“By the Witch, how do people live under BL/ind?” Fever complained, taking her hat and bun down. Ryan exhaled and rubbed at his cheeks, wincing. “Let’s go, if I have to wear these heels for another ten minutes I’m going to yell.” They snuck through the Lobby to the outskirts, Ryan letting Fever enter first before him. She picked up the bag by the stairwell and headed up. 

“I hope everything fits.” She opened the door and nearly kicked the heels off across the room, Ryan closing the door behind her. Dallon sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the walkman. 

“Dally!” Fever called out. Dallon looked up and smiled wide, taking the earbuds out. 

“Fever! Hello there!” Hugging and kissing each other on the cheek, Fever ruffled his hair. Dallon laughed and shook his head to get it to fall back in place. “How are you?” 

“Great, now that we’re here!” Ryan cleared off his things from the table, helping her lift it next to the bed. Opening her bag, she spread out all her materials and tools; art supplies, paint, brushes, sandpaper, rags, a half-filled water bottle, and makeup. “Ready for your stage debut?” Dallon shifted to sit in front of her, straightening his back and nodding. 

“On your command.” Before she could start, her and Ryan’s stomach growled, Ryan changing back into his usual outfit. 

“I’ll get lunch, surprise me when I get back!” He left, leaving them alone. Fever started with a square of sandpaper, leaning over Dallon. 

“Tell me if this hurts, okay?” Lightly sanding away any excess bumps from the spray paint, she brushed off the particles. Dallon let her turn his head whichever way, holding still in whatever angle. Fever wiped his face down once she was done, tucking the stray strands of hair behind his ear. “That didn’t hurt, did it?” 

“No. It felt at most like a rough brush.” A few strands would not stay back. She took one of her bobby pins and pinned Dallon’s hair away from his face. Picking up a brush, she dabbed it in light pink and peach pastels. 

“Lightly apply some blush like this.” She brushed a layer over Dallon’s cheeks, Dallon mimicking her with the other cheek. He used a mirror from an eyeshadow palette, glancing up at Fever for approval. She smiled and gave a thumbs up, adding a few strokes on the tip of his nose. “For your jawline and cheekbones, a darker shade is going to be better. Adds a bit of depth so you look more human!” She carefully brushed it on, showing Dallon how to blend it out. He copied, tilting his head back and forth to see if it was the same. 

“How do you do it again?” 

“Like this.” Covering his fingers with her own, she guided his hand movements. “There you go.” Setting the brushes down, Fever picked up her thinnest ones. “Okay, I’m going to do your eyes. If you need to tap out, tell me, okay?” Dallon nodded. She lifted Dallon’s chin, leaned in close, and began to paint his eyelashes black. Dallon sat perfectly still, only looking up at her when she leaned back. Fever shifted and leaned down again, grumbling and drawing back. “It’s hard to get a good angle… How much weight can you support?” 

“I was built to be able to carry heavy studio equipment, so a good amount.” 

“Stay still, okay?” Straddling Dallon’s lap, Fever rested her elbows on his shoulders, leaned forward, and continued to paint his eyes. Breathing slowly, she painted his lashline, tilting his chin just a little bit further up. Lowering her brush, Dallon gazed at her beneath his newly painted eyelashes, frowning when she didn’t go back to painting. 

“Is something wrong?”

“You know, you have very pretty blue eyes.” 

“Oh. I like them more than red.” She moved onto his other eye. “... Fever?” She made a noise of acknowledgment. “Can I dye my hair when we’re out?” 

“Was actually talking about that with Ryan before. Market’s been rather sparse on fabric dye as of late, though.” Placing a finger under his eye, she painted the bottom lashes. “What colors?” 

“I think black.” 

“You got it.” Adding a few more minor details, she drew back, getting off his lap and getting a new brush. “Any special request for your eyebrows?” 

“Artist’s choice.” She sat back on his lap and held his chin, redrawing on his eyebrows. Mirroring the other side, she went back and forth, making sure both siders were identical. Dallon sat patiently, occasionally glancing up at her or her hands. “And… that should be good! Now,” she set her brushes and pencils down, picking up a nude lipstick from the table. 

“No bright red?” 

“I’m afraid not this time. If I find one, I’ll give it to you, promise.” She twisted it open. “Can you just part your lips a little bit?” Dallon did as such, Fever carefully applying the lipstick across his bottom and top lip. “Now smack them like this,” she demonstrated, he copied, “and…” wiping off some of the messier edges, she capped the lipstick and held up the mirror. “How did I do?” Dallon gasped, Fever grinning as he turned his head up and down, left and right. “Did I do a good job?” 

“I don’t know how you did it, but… it looks perfect.” He murmured. “I love it. I love it so much.” He reached up to touch his cheeks, Fever quickly grabbing his wrist. 

“Lemme seal it in, then you can touch all you want.” A spray of sealant to protect his face. As they waited for it to dry, Fever marked the colors she used for his face. “Keep these in case you need to touch up. Follow your face structure and you’ll be all good.” 

“How did you learn to do makeup?” 

“Needed to blend in whenever I go to the city. Also, some killer eyeliner always helps when negotiating trades.” Fever grinned. “I can give you permanent eyeliner if you’d like.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Ryan pushed open the door, cans rattling inside his bag. He closed the door with his foot, more or less dumping the cans on the kitchen table. Fever took back her bobby pins, ruffling Dallon’s hair to get it to fall back in place. 

“Who wants questionable soup-” He looped up, Fever moving to the side so he could see. Dallon smiled at him, Ryan’s voice trailing off. “Oh… oh wow, oh wow.” A can rolled off the table, Ryan just snapping out in time to dive and catch it before it hit the ground. “Shit- wow- oh wow, he- you look amazing. Fever, you-” Waving his arms in an attempt to make words happen, he decided to just do a chef’s kiss, Fever laughing and waving her hand. 

“That’s what I’m good at, perfection.” After a quick lunch and debate of what the soup cans actually contained, Fever and Ryan got out the clothes. Dallon looked at the colors. Fever patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry Dally, you can wear whatever color you want once we’re out.” She reassured. 

“... Can I get things that sparkle?” He quietly asked, picking up the turtleneck sweater. 

“Yes! Whatever you want, we will make you as shiny as possible, both ways!” He smiled, putting it on. The turtleneck and scarf hid the neck joints, Dallon running his fingers over the fabric. The gloves covered his hands, jacket filling out his frame. Fever put the beanie on him, tucking all his red hair underneath. Pants, belt, and a plain pair of sneakers. They stepped back, Dallon standing in the middle of the room. 

He appeared like a resident of Battery City. 

“Okay, give us your best blank expression.” Dallon blinked, lips immediately straightening and eyes blanking. Straight back, shoulders square, eyes forward. Ryan felt a chill go down his spine; if Dallon was dressed in an Exterminator outfit, he would fit right in. Or a robot guard. He rather not think about either. Fever whistled. “That’s a pretty and scary look, but too much. Hm… bring your shoulders down, hands in your pockets, hunch just the sliiightest bit…” She reached up and pressed down on his head, “and lower your chin, just a tad.” Dallon followed her instructions. Like a switch, he seemed shorter than he really was. Inconspicuous, shy, another person passing by. 

“... Huh.” Ryan tried to compare what Dallon looked like ten seconds ago. Fever clapped. 

“Perfect! You act lovely, Dally!” She complimented, patting his arm. He smiled and relaxed, hands resting in front with fingers clasped. Now he was tall but not intimidating, rather… soft? Ryan tilted his head, watching as Dallon swayed slightly back and forth as Fever talked. Soft wasn’t the right word. Approachable? Friendly? Unassuming? 

“Ryan?” He snapped out of his thoughts, Fever and Dallon looking at him. “Does it work?” Dallon asked, doing a little awkward shuffling spin to show off the outfit. Now he appeared like a dork. 

“You look amazing. Fever, you really know how to make a disguise.” Fever made a little peace sign and snicker. 

“Ain’t my first time trying to bypass BL/ind, and isn’t going to be my last.” They took Dallon’s clothes off, Fever folding them neatly on the bed as Dallon put his sleepwear back on. “Try not to wear these too much, try to keep them as clean as possible for escape date.” 

“Thank you again.”

“Anytime. I need a little more time for the battery, by… next week?” Ryan air-punched in victory as Dallon gasped, eyes briefly sparkling to red in his excitement. “And I promise, we’re doing a  _ real  _ makeover for both of you!” He isn’t sure what kind of look he’s going to go for, but by Destroya he’s excited. 

Fever left when the sun began to dip below the sky, Dallon reluctantly letting go of her hug when she had to say goodbye. Ryan watched her disappear through the streets from one of the broken windows, receiving three radio beeps twenty minutes later to reassure him that she made it to the subway safely. 

Dallon gazed at the eyeshadow mirror, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He glanced at the city clothes, picking up the jacket again. 

“What color do you think will look good on me once we’re out?” Ryan smiled, smoothing a wrinkle out of Dallon’s shirt; it was an old t-shirt he owned, the band logo faded. He’s gotten used to just sleeping in his regular clothes anyways, and he doesn’t mind letting Dallon wear it. 

“I think you’ll look good in anything. But I definitely think you should go with sparkles.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know those doll-customization videos on youtube? Yeah.   
> If you'd like a fun fact, this is the sixth version of this chapter. Also if you'd like a visual on what Breezy looked like putting on Dallon's makeup take that image of the two lesbians with one of them putting eyeshadow on the other one lying down and turn it so it's vertical.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to OllieOllieOxenFree for a lot of this!  
> Dallon is an android, Ryan is a human, and Breezy is a killjoy. They all have two hands they can hold in a circle.


End file.
